Monthly Archives: July 2013

Best Laid

Today, I was meant to receive a delivery of medicine and I was supposed to go to an appointment, after which, I would go to the store to buy the things to make gluten-free bread, and come home. (I’d also meant to get a couple of days of groceries, because I had to get my food stamps card replaced, and they took their sweet time.)

None of that happened.

There was a message I didn’t see from the pharmacy about the delivery, but when I tried to call them, no one at the pharmacy knew what the message had been about, because it had been from the head pharmacist, who was not in, and would not be in until tomorrow.

I need to go there on Thursday; I don’t mind if I need to pick it up in person, but I would like something concrete laid down, because running out of certain medication will be bad, to say the least. I was relying on some of it coming today, but I will survive without it.

I also need to go to the bank, because they are doing their best to avoid replacing my debit card in a simple way.

I had planned to join V at his brother’s house afterward on Thursday to house-sit for the weekend, and bring my bread and a jar of honey, and have a small moment for Freyr, without candles, because they have too many cats.

I may be bringing someone else’s bread, purchased at the store, at this rate, because I either have to choose between going there, or coming back here and baking. I don’t know what would be best. While it’s not an ordinary part of my vocabulary, everything is something of a clusterfuck at the moment.

It was suggested to me to speak to Forseti and Tyr about some of the housing mess; among other things, I was told to focus on my meditation and purifications. Because I am “not blameless in all things.”

Perhaps I should set myself up to collect my Vajrasattva recitations and make that a goal that I can actually coherently work toward that does not depend on anything more than a string of beads or a counting app to do.

Another post about rape

Fugitivus

By the by, I consistently use that title because I mean for it to operate as a trigger warning. I write a lot about rape, but sometimes I write about other things, and I don’t want anybody taken off-guard transitioning from “help computer” into wtf rape-talk. Case you were wondering.

I was re-reading my five billion goddamn posts about rape and force, and I realized (surprise!) there is a more succinct way for me to express what I was thinking. I tend to go on and on, circling a subject, trying to get out everything in my head that possibly relates to it, and then sometimes find I didn’t really address the subject at all. So, here is what I wanted to say in those five billion posts about rape:

If women are raised being told by parents, teachers, media, peers, and all surrounding social strata that:

  • it is not…

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The Demigodspouse Edition

Brand’s parents, both being gods, seems to, according to the sort of genetics we learned in middle school, mean he is also one, but he is profoundly uncomfortable about the idea, and I sometimes refer to him as a demigod to aggravate him. It worked too well, here, for a title to go for the sort of politeness one would expect when discussion my best friend/lover/husband/twin.

I helped with the ceremony for Brand and V., and had my first (in my opinion, extremely awkward, but no one shares my opinion) foray into being a priest for other people.

They were there, very much.

It’s very silence-inducing, at least in the afterward, feeling them so strongly here, in such a way that I am confused by people who do not believe in any form of divine, or other, or at least more than we can know.

Tiny bit of wedding news.

I’ve decided that I would like to have my wedding at the Jefferson Market garden, which is very beautiful, and convenient enough to both the train and a place we like to eat.

I still plan on having a meal at home, with things I’ve made, but this would reduce the amount of things that I felt like I needed to do.

Right now, I’m dealing with severe pain from the weather changing drastically back and forth, and unfortunately not up to writing.

Day 17 Say What Now?

As his son has said many times, Loki loves his children and spouses more than anything else that has ever existed, or will.

Life with Loki

Last night on Facebook I ran across one of the most disrespectful comments about a person and their relationship to their deity I’ve ever seen. It went like this names have been redacted.

  • He has done so much for me. Made me so much stronger of a person. I think that he builds up those that need it, regardless of how one presents themselves to the physical world. It’s not like He builds up an ‘army’ of the weak, He brings us up out of LOVE.
    Even those who do not need to be brought up from the shallows will be embraced. I have always seen Him as LOVE.
    12 hours ago via mobile · Like · 1
  •  Sorry but I have to call bullshit here personally. LOVE? REALLY. Are you sure you haven’t just made over Jesus with a Norse accent? Never read a bigger pile of bullshit in…

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Honey Willow

Another petition for our bees.

He suggested I updated the title and tagline for my blog, though not the url, because that would be too confusing–also I’m unlikely to stop being Shannon Kotono, since the name he is giving me when we are married is going in the middle of my name.

I wondered if one of his suggested updates would be better after we were married, but he said something about technicalities with a hand wave.

As for the title, I was starting to feel odd about the terms his home/our home. Is it presumptuous to say ours, if I spend much of my elsewhere time there? If, I suppose especially, the people there accept me as someone who belongs there and they care for me, and things that belong to me are there (generally clothes, but they’re obviously my clothes)?

He thought the only way to make it something ours was to think of a name that suited both of us somehow. I couldn’t think of much, in part because what I kept thinking of reminded me of a very unpleasant person, which is not fair to us.

I kept coming back to this, however, and he suggested it independently, and so it is.

Rest

Another important bee petition.

I donated some money the other day to a fundraiser, also about bees.

My necklace came last night, and I opened the package enough to find out what was in it, but didn’t look further than glancing at the packing slip. It seems like I should save it for the wedding.  Which is now just slightly over a month away.

After his period of being furious about these recent circumstances, he came back to me and held on to me as if I were in danger of being evicted from him. I needed it. As much as I try to protest that I cannot possibly be important to anyone, let alone a god, further let alone a god that has many more interesting people to pay attention to, we do need each other, somehow, for some reason. I spent most of the intervening time with him, laying together in bed, not really talking, but being close to each other. I do not know how to be in a relationship that requires large amounts of conversation. I need these things. Silence. Closeness. Understanding.

Early this morning, I drew Isa, and just now, when I asked for one from Freyr, I drew Isa again.

There’s so much to do.

But rest, it says. Rest.

And he adds, warm, tender, nearly against my mouth, Rest. What can you do when you have nothing left to give? Rest. Sleep in my arms. The last bit a hovering question without quite necessitating a question mark, but neither an imperative. Something he wants me to do, but I have plenty of room to be uncomfortable about it for myriad reasons and need to not be that physically close to someone, or asleep in front of someone, which is a very vulnerable position, and so on.

But I think about going home and being wrapped in a robe that is somehow softer than silk, done in a shade to complement my eyes, with black trim, similar to my hair. And just laying down in his bed. Such a dense frame. Heavy wood. Deeply carven. A canopy, useful for shutting out the sunlight from the right, where there’s a fair sized window, and collecting the warmth from the fire on the left in cooler seasons.

Having him pass it along without my being aware of it, or before I get there, that we, or I, shouldn’t be disturbed, otherwise lovely, well-meaning people will fuss over me, because I am some sort of darling of theirs. When I can’t handle people. And he always knows when I can’t handle people. Even when I can’t handle spirits and wights.

I do feel very tired. I haven’t slept well since some time in June.